


A Chat With Mr. Ketch

by Ohcassie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brain Damage, British Men of Letters, Caning, Captivity, Castiel Whump, Collars, Cute Castiel, Cute Mary, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Demon Blood, Electroconvulsive Therapy, Fluff, Happy Ending, Heroin, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, I will post more tags per chapter to avoid spoiling anything, Injections, Ketch being a little perv, Kidnapped Castiel, Kidnapping, M/M, Mary showing Dean traits, Minor Character Death, Mother-Son Relationship, Needles, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Electroconvulsive Therapy, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Nudity, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Seizures, Unethical Experimentation, Urination, caring Mary, mentions of John Winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohcassie/pseuds/Ohcassie
Summary: Sam and Dean have been imprisoned by the US government, leaving Castiel lost and unsure of where to go. He makes the mistake of trusting Mr. Ketch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There aren't enough Cas/Ketch fics out there, so I felt like I should address this issue. No big warnings for this chapter. Thank you SaraPBateman for helping me with ideas for this. Enjoy!

Castiel was standing alone outside the diner that Kelly managed to slip out of moments prior when Ketch pulls up beside him in his dark vehicle. 

"Need a ride, angel?" Mr. Ketch smirks at Castiel's exasperated expression. 

"No, thank you. I should retrieve the Impala and return to the...return home." Castiel is sure it would be unwise to reveal the existence of the bunker to any British Men of Letters operatives.

"Well, I don't expect you to know this, but that outdated vehicle has most likely been impounded by the law enforcement." Mr. Ketch makes a point to hit the "unlock" on his vehicle. 

"Then I will take the bus. You seem like a...busy...man, and I wouldn't want to burden you." Castiel wrings his hands in front of him. It's a nervous tick he's picked up. 

"Nonsense! It's no issue at all, halo." That term...grated on Castiel's nerves. He was sure he made a point before to tell the man his name. "It looks as if it may rain. Hurry and get in." Cas looks to the sky and has to reluctantly agree that there are storm clouds looming overhead. He enters Ketch's vehicle and the Brit can't help but to smirk at the angel's carefully stern expression. 

"Off we go then!" Ketch answers his overly cheerful exclamation by stepping on the gas. Cas can't help but to be reminded of his torturous road trip with Crowley not too long ago. "I'm assuming you don't wish to return to that empty bunker." Castiel's head whipped up in disbelief. "Yes, halo, I'm aware of the existence of that bunker. It does belong to the Men of Letters, after all." Ketch tosses a rueful look over at Cas, then returns his gaze to the road. "But, as I said, since there are no Winchesters to return to, there's no reason for you not to go to the British Men of Letters embassy with me." 

Castiel furrows his brow. "What if Mary Winchester returns the bunker?" Ketch quirks an eyebrow. "Odds are she'll return to the embassy sooner than she returns to the bunker." The look of confusion quite suits the angel, if Ketch can say so himself. "Return? You mean she's visited?" Castiel's expression is one of complete befuddlement. Ketch let's out a chuckle. "Not just visited, my feathered friend. She has a bed. An office even." Castiel looks out the windshield to process the new information. "So, she's been working with you?" Ketch steers the car onto a ramp and merges on to the highway.

"Yes, well, not just me. Other agents as well. Now, it's a bit of a drive. I've brought some refreshments along." Ketch gestures to two water bottles sitting in the cup holders and a full plastic bag sitting between their feet. Cas reaches for the bottle closest to him. "Um...thank you." He takes a few sips of the tasteless liquid. Ketch gives an acknowledging hum and says nothing for a very long time. 

 

****

 

"What did you put in that water?" It's only been a little over an hour and Cas has finished off his bottled water. Since his last sips, he's noticed that his awareness is wavering, nausea is building low in his stomach, and his throbbing head is so muddled he can't think. He knows Rohypnol is not potent enough to affect him, but whatever was in his water certainly has. 

"A little concoction whipped up in a lab back home. I must say, I'm surprised it's working." Ketch reaches forward and flips the air conditioner on full blast. “Feeling any better?” Cas levels murderous glare at the smug Brit. “Just lay back, angel. We’ll be there soon.”

Cas’s vision swims violently and his stomach gives a valiant lurch. He groans and finds that he can’t even keep his eyes open. He slumps towards the window and watches the world turn black.

 

****

 

Ketch parks in a shadowed area outside the building, away from the general parking lot and the multiple checkpoints agents must pass through to enter the embassy grounds. The special entrance Ketch has parked in front of leads straight to the creature holding cells, and is perfect for Ketch's purpose right now.

He exits the vehicle and rounds to the passenger side door. If it weren't for the seat belt, the halo would probably come tumbling onto the asphalt with the way he was leaning against the door. Ketch props the angel back against the seat and goes about unbuckling the seat belt and pulling the angel from the car. Settling the angel into a comfortable fireman's carry proves to be a challenge, but soon enough Ketch has the car door shut and is headed towards the entrance. 

A metallic something or other makes a noisy clang behind Ketch. He turns around to see the halo's angelic weapon lying on the ground. Huh. Must have fallen from the coat sleeve he has seen the angel will the blade to fall from in battle. He almost had forgotten about it. Ketch carefully lowers himself in order to scoop up the blade. Blade retrieved, he approaches the locked door with the angel in tow. After punching in the twelve-digit code on the keypad, Ketch and the angel disappear behind the door and descend into the embassy's dungeons. 

 

****

 

It looks more like a very polished prison than a dungeon, Ketch notes. He has the angel tied down by the wrists and ankles to a table on wheels. It's currently locked in place. Ketch studies the simple sigils lining the restraints as he wrestles on a pair of sterilized gloves. The British Men of Letters have a few amenities for the likes of angels. The sigiled restraints, for example. Ketch hopes that by spending some quality time with the Winchester’s personal pet, he will unlock the tricks and secrets that will give the secret society an edge over the misbehaving angelic beings that still roam Earth. Of course, that’s the gentle version come straight from the mouths of the Old Men. Ketch will do what he sees fit in order to fulfill their orders.

Ketch begins by gathering the DNA that’s to be sent to the lads at the lab. He straightens out an unruly tuft of hair on the angel’s head and snips about two inches off with a heavy pair of scissors. Ketch stuffs the dark lock into a plastic bag labeled: Angel. He repeats the process with a fingernail, a drop of blood from a fingertip, and a cotton swab carrying saliva from the inside of the halo’s cheek. Next on the list is to rid the angel of the hideous garment he insists on wearing at all times. Ketch loosens the knot of the gaudy tie and slips it from the shirt collar. He throws it in the nearby wastebasket. He sets about removing the angel’s other accoutrements, leather belt, Chelsea boots, and dress socks, and tosses them all as well. Ketch picks up the industrial-strength scissors again and cuts the frumpy trenchcoat up the arms, to the collar. He repeats it with the suit jacket and dress shirt. Pulling the dress shirt out of the halo’s waistband and unfastening the buttons is accomplished swiftly. After the shirt and coats are tossed, Ketch picks up the scissors and cuts from the ankle to the waist of both the right and left legs of the trousers. 

After setting the scissors down, he experiences a moment of hesitation. The Brit glances up to properly assess the lithe and tanned torso of the angel. He makes note of the Enochian tattoo resting over the lower left ribs. He takes a picture of it with the camera the lab techs included in the supplies as well. Ketch didn’t wish to use it, since he thought it best that only he knew the identity of their captured angel, but if he makes a note of a tattoo and doesn’t include an image of it, he would more than likely hear grumbling and complaints.

Ketch sets aside the camera and can’t help but to observe that the halo looks truly vulnerable without his multiple layers. Perhaps when the angel regains consciousness and realizes his clothes are missing, the humiliation will be enough to knock him down a peg or two. Ketch would love to see that. Unfortunately, he is obligated to deposit the angel into his cell before he wakes up for some safety reason or another.

Ketch has wasted enough time thinking. He returns to his task and opens the fly of the dress pants. He is then able to easily pull the trousers out from under the angel and throw them away as well. Ketch frowns at the angel’s choice of underwear. Who would purchase such unflattering white boxers, it is beyond Ketch. The garment looks to be even a size or two too large for the poor lad. Oh well, as far as modesty goes, they will do as the halo’s only form of clothing.

The last thing on the to-do list: fit the collar. Ketch picks the sturdy leather collar up off the tray and studies it. The sigils branded into the tan hide truly are a beautiful feat of craftsmanship. Unfortunately, lock spells are still being studied, so a padlock is an added accessory to the collar. Ketch wraps the leather around the halo’s neck and locks it in place with the padlock. He pockets the key and unlocks the wheels to the table.

The journey to the angel’s cell is a short one. A heavy, windowless reinforced door swings open to reveal a space no bigger than a broom closet. Ketch unstraps the angel from the table and carelessly deposits him into the cell. He notes that there isn’t enough room for the angel to lay down fully. Not an issue. If the halo wants to stretch its legs it can stand up. Sparing one last glance into the pitch dark cell, Ketch pushes the door closed, sealing Castiel away in the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos on the last chapter! Thank you, SaraPBateman, for being a great beta. Here is some more self-indulging Cas Whump. 
> 
> Warnings: Physical abuse, electro-shock therapy, seizures, urine.

When Castiel blinked back into awareness, he thought maybe he was mistaken, and was actually still in his drugged state of unconsciousness. It wasn't until he felt the cramps in his legs and kink in his neck that he knew he was, without a doubt, awake. Wherever he was, it was too dark. Come to think of it, the cramps, the kinks, the inability to see, these were all problems that, as an angel, Castiel shouldn't be experiencing. 

His heart rate picked up. He breathed deeply. Getting himself worked up won't help him out of this situation. Luckily, he remembers Mr. Ketch saying he was driving him to the British Men of Letter headquarters. He must be in a cell. Castiel pulled himself up into his knees and noticed a strange sensation about his neck. A quick feel around with his hands revealed a leather collar that seemed to be etched with a spell. The nerve of that man to put a symbol so degrading on him. Collared like a dog. Cas examines the current state of his vessel, and besides his missing clothing, there is no damage to his body. That's surprising. From their very first meeting, Ketch always carried an unsettling glint in his eyes when he looked at Castiel. He decides it's best not to dwell on the things Ketch has yet to do to him. 

Castiel uses his hands and feet to map out the small space. He stands upright and is surprised to find that he can't reach the ceiling of the space. He feels along the walls and determines which wall the door is on. No light leaks through the cracks, and pushing on it yields no result. Castiel never wanted to think what captivity in the hands of the British Men of Letters would be like, but he didn't expect it to resemble a small closet. 

Unsure of what to do, Cas sits back down and analyzes the effect the collar has on his grace. When he tried to access his grace, he can feel it stir, but that's the extent of it. It's enough to accelerate his healing process a little, and keep control over human processes such as urination and defecation, but that is it. It's not much, but it is better than nothing.

****

Sometime later, when Castiel is in a deep meditative state out of boredom, the door begins to shift and open. Cas is immediately on his feet, gauging the likelihood of whether or not he could make an escape attempt. His thoughts are dashed when a stick-like contraption is pushed through the crack of the door to his gut and sends a debilitating current of electricity through his body. While Castiel falls to his knees and desperately wills his body to stop clenching and tensing, Ketch opens the door the rest of the way and steps in the small space. He manhandles Cas's trembling form so that he is lying face down and pulls his arms back to slap on a pair of Enochian handcuffs. 

Just as Castiel is regaining some control of his body, Ketch grabs him by the arms and hauls him upright. Cas catches a brief glimpse of the hallway outside his cell before Ketch tangles his fingers in Castiel's hair and forces his head all the way down. Chin to his chest. "Head down, angel." In his other hand, Ketch digs the cattle prod into Cas's waist. He flinches at the contact, but there is no electrical charge. 

Ketch leads him through the hallways like this for a short amount of time. The wide collar cuts painfully into Cas's neck. When they reach their destination, Ketch yanks Cas's head back up. The first thing Cas sees is a chair resembling the one Naomi strapped him to so many times in heaven. He can't help but to jerk back in Ketch's grip. This earns him a sharp zap from the prod.

Cas falls to his knees and Ketch uses his grip in his hair to press his forehead hard into the cold floor. Ketch whispers dangerously in his ear. 

"Don't make this difficult, angel. You will stand up and get in the chair. Am I understood?"

Cas shakes through the aftershocks of the zap. He struggles to speak. "Yes."

Ketch presses him harder into the floor. "I can't hear you!"

"Yes!" Ketch lets go of Cas's hair and quickly removes the handcuffs. He steps back expectantly, cattle prod in hand. Cas stands on unsteady legs and hefts himself into the slightly reclined chair, legs straightened out in front of him. He lifts his eyes to Ketch and finds him giving him the same look he always gives him. A curious glance up and down his vessel. 

"The restraints, too." Cas lets a petulant look take over his face. He's suddenly too angry to care. "I will not strap myself to this chair of my own volition." He keeps his glare steady on Ketch, who looks amused. Ketch looks away and the smirk melts off his face. When Ketch comes storming over to the chair, Cas scrambles to get away. 

Cas is barely off the chair on the opposite side of Ketch when he is grabbed by the back of the collar and wrenched backwards over the chair. In the same moment, Ketch takes the cattle prod and slides it smoothly down the front of Cas's boxers. With the weapon resting dangerously against his genitalia, Cas's struggles are replaced with pleas. 

"No, no, no! Please, no." Cas has one hand latched onto his strangling collar and the other on Ketch's wrist where it's holding the prod. His bare feet scramble blindly on the floor for purchase. Ketch speaks lowly in his ear. "Your disobedience will have unsavory consequences, halo. I've been kind in that I'm giving you choices. Now sit back on this chair, and don't. Move."

As soon as Ketch releases him, Cas quickly gets back in the chair. Ketch wastes no time in locking his wrists and ankles in. He also tightens a strap across Cas's shoulders. When he is finished, Ketch steps back and looks at Cas. Cas takes a deep breath to gain control of his rapid heart rate, and meets Ketch's stare with a glare. After a moment, Cas speaks first.

"Tell me why I'm here." Ketch smiles, amused. "Happy to oblige." But Ketch continues to smile pleasantly at the angel. 

"Well then...please, oblige." Cas grumbles. Ketch steps forward and rolls a cart covered with a cloth out from behind the chair. "I was tasked by the Men of Letters to discuss with an angel it's strengths, weaknesses, endurance, et cetera..." Ketch removes the cloth to reveal a standard set of torture tools ready for use. Cas glances fearfully at the contents of the cart then returns his glare to Ketch. 

"If you had just asked, I would have been happy to have a talk with you." Cas is practically shaking with anger. Ketch picks up a scalpel for appraisal. "Are we not having a talk right now?" Ketch flashes Cas a cheeky grin. Receiving no reaction from the stoic angel, he shrugs and puts the tool down. 

"I don't have talks, angel. This-" he gestures the the room and chair "is how I talk." Castiel tears his eyes away from the Brit. He clenches his bound fists. "If I did something to wrong you-"

"You did nothing, halo, and there is nothing that can get you out of your situation. Not even your Winchesters, who are locked up so tight they may never see the light of day again. No, because my superiors have given me a mission, and I will see to it that it is completed."

"What happened to you that made you like this?" Castiel can't help but let his curiosity override his apprehension. Ketch quirks a brow. "Sorry?"

"Something must have happened in your life that has turned you into this deranged sadist. Perhaps you should seek out therapy-"

"Awful chatty now, aren't you?" Somehow, the predatory gleam in Ketch's eye intensifies. "No matter, it's inspired my choice for the test we will carry out today." As Ketch turns to walk towards another door, Cas's stomach sinks. 

"...and what would that be?" In truth, Cas doesn't really want to know, but he'd also like to be able to brace himself for what's coming. 

"Brain plasticity." Ketch answers calmly. "We are going to see how well and how quickly your brain can heal itself." Ketch rolls another cart out of the closet that carries a large and boxy machine. He wheels it over by the chair and goes about plugging in different accessories to it. 

"This collar won't allow me to heal as quickly as I'm capable of." The machine looks familiar to Castiel, but he isn't comforted by that thought. "Yes, that is the point of the collar. It will slow down your healing process so that I can properly observe the miracle at work." Ketch whips his hand in front of Cas's face. He is holding some type of mouth guard. "Open." Cas glares up at Ketch and seals his lips tighter. Ketch doesn't hesitate in sending a crippling punch into the angel's gut. Ketch takes advantage of Cas's involuntary groan and shoves the plastic in his mouth. 

"For your own benefit, I'd advise against spitting that out." Cas bites down on the plastic as he pulls in quick breaths through his nose, chest heaving. All the while, Ketch affixes headgear over the angel's scalp. A chin strap is tightened and Cas doubles his efforts of wrenching his hands free of the steel restraints. 

"Have a good time, angel. I'll be back in a bit." Ketch flicks the machine on and twists the dial as far as it can go.

****

The only thing Castiel is aware of is the heat in his head, the rhythmic tensing and clenching of his whole body, and the involuntary noises making it past the mouth guard. As time wears on, he is aware of less and less. He can't think. At some point he loses feeling in his body. His whole world is an endless current of electricity. 

****

An hour later on the dot, Ketch returns to the room. Remarkably, the angel's body is still pulled as taut as it was when he left the room. Head thrown back, back arched off the chair. He would have thought he'd be mostly still at this point. Ketch flips the machine off and observes the last jerks run through the angel. Almost immediately the angel develops a tremor that gently wracks his whole body. His eyes are moving steadily back and forth, and when Ketch pulls the mouth guard out, drool leaks out of the angel's mouth. 

No sooner than when Ketch removes the head piece, the angel's eyes roll back into his head and he is completely taken over by a violent seizure. Ketch steps back and observes the angel pull his own wrists and ankles out of socket. The seizure lasts less than a minute, and the angel is left inhaling desperately, body once again trembling slightly and his eyes searching back and forth for nothing.

"Oh, bloody hell." Ketch notices the growing wet stain on the angel's underwear. The seizure must have made the beast incontinent. Reluctant to deal with bodily fluids today, Ketch opts to pop his joints back in place and throw the halo back in his cell with the soiled garment still on.

While walking away from the closet he's forced the angel to call home, Ketch fights a grin as he considers what games are in store for Castiel tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos! I love to hear feedback:)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for torture, Ketch being a perv, and more torture. Enjoy!

"Feeling any better today, halo?"

Castiel sits slumped in the chair, body still trembling and drool lazily dripping past his slack lips. When Ketch went to retrieve him, the angel was still sprawled where he dumped him the day before. Ketch thought that it was plausible the angel still had no control over his motor functions, but he was pleased to find that the angel was able to stand on his own, though, not without some assistance.

Ketch reached out with a gloved hand and grabbed under the angel’s jaw, pulling his face so that the angel was looking at him. “Do you understand what I’m saying? Blink twice if you can.” After a brief moment, the angel slowly opened and closed his glassy eyes two times. “So cooperative today! Much easier to get along with compared to yesterday, wouldn’t you agree, angel?” 

Not expecting a reaction, Ketch focused his attention on the nearby cart laid out with multiple syringes. "Since you were so chatty yesterday, I figured you'd be interested in listening to the sound of your own voice again today. This little test should help you with that." Ketch practically sounds jovial. Castiel shifts his eyes to the cart and is frightened by the wicked looking needles. 

"Hunggh-!" Castiel can't help the pitiful noise that escapes his lips. He lets his head roll to face away from the cart, and he manages to scrunch his shoulders up by his ears. Ketch tsks. 

"Now, angel, I've been fair to you so far today. Notice how you haven't been strapped to the chair?" Ketch observes the angel and notices the sheen of sweat coating his trembling torso. The urine on his shorts has since dried from the halo's little accident yesterday, but he can't ignore the foul smell surrounding the beast. 

Castiel's head is still pointed away from Ketch and the cart. He takes advantage of the access he has to the angel's neck and injects him with a syringe filled with demon blood. The reaction is immediate. The angel arches his back and screams. He's really got a set of lungs on him. Castiel continues to tense and scream, his body taut all over. Ketch grabs his left arm and straps it to the arm rest.

Castiel slowly calms down from his demon blood fit, breathing heavy and tugging weakly at his bound wrist. A syringe is held in front of his face, demanding to be looked at. The liquid inside appears to be metallic and thick. His mind is too muddled guess what the substance may be. The syringe is pulled away and Ketch grabs a hold of his left forearm, turning it slightly up.

Liquid fire shoots straight into Castiel's vein. Ketch tightens his hold on the jerking limb to ensure he plunges every drop into the angel's body. Ketch didn't think it was possible, but the halo's screams are even louder now.

He shrieks for an extended amount of time, fingers gripping the chair desperately and toes curling painfully. As his chest heaves and the shrieks die down,  Ketch runs an unwelcome hand through the angel's sweaty hair. "That was liquified angel blade. Your own angel blade, in fact. I do wonder, if your blade is an extension of you and your grace, what effect will it have running through your vessel's veins?" Ketch smoothes sweaty strands off Castiel's forehead, mocking and gentle. 

"You're doing very well. Only one more shot today. I think you'll find you'll like this one." Ketch removes himself from the angel's space and picks up the final syringe. Due to the angel's continued thrashing, his veins are conveniently popped out and visible through his skin. Of course, the uncontrollable tremble the angel has developed has made this needle business all that more difficult. In no time, however, he inserts the needle and pushes the plunger.

There is no immediate violent reaction, but the shakes die down. The angel's pupils dilate dramatically, and his breathing slows down considerably. Ketch frees the restrained wrist. 

"How's that feel? Better than the last two, I'll bet. Heroin is a fascinating drug. I'm glad the collar allows for it to affect you." Ketch receives no response whatsoever from the angel, but it's not unexpected. "Unfortunately, I'm not inclined to let you ride out your high at the moment. Up and at em'!" Ketch links his arms under the pliant angel's armpits and lifts. He shuffles backwards with the heavy beast to the other side of the room and through an open door. 

The new room is tiled, there are drains on the floor and showers heads and hoses dotting the walls. Ketch lays the angel down by a wall. It makes a soft noise resembling a mewl, and Ketch can't help but to find it a little endearing. 

Ketch grips the hem of the angel's boxers and begins the slide them down his legs. His thighs are abnormally more muscular than the rest of his body, and the boxers get caught around them briefly. Once the boxers are off, Ketch tosses them aside. He pauses for a moment to marvel at the body that he's laid bare. The muscle tone is exquisitely dispersed, concentrating primarily in the shoulders, thighs, and, after a quick repositioning to lay the angel on his front, ah yes, in his buttocks as well. 

The halo's fingers grip against the floor and his eyes stare glazed and unseeing at a far wall. Ketch runs warm water through a nearby hose and uses it to wet the trembling body. The halo's eyes droop a bit, soothed by the warm water. Ketch collects a bar of soap and works up the suds on the angel's upper back. Ketch is reminded of his mother's gentle ministrations during his baths as a young child. Encouraged by the images in his head, Ketch runs the bar through the tense muscles of the angel's back. He puts the soap down and works on coaxing the taught muscles to relax. He digs his thumbs in on either side of the spine and drags his them down the curve of the angel's back, pausing at the tailbone. Ketch glances up at the halo's face, the side of which is resting against the tiled floor. Drool is once again escaping sluggishly past his lips, and his eyes are nearly fully closed. The trembling has gone down dramatically, and the angel's limbs are completely still. 

Taking this as a good sign, Ketch continues the bath. He picks up the bar of soap again and begins rubbing the angel's right buttock in circular motions. He repeats the motions for a period of time, occasionally lowering the soap to run over the space where the top of his thigh and his arse meets. He repeats the process with the left cheek and eventually puts the soap down again. 

Sitting between the halo's spread legs, staring transfixed at the sudsy mounds of flesh, Ketch is surprised to have lost such control of himself. Either way, his hands act beyond his constraint.

Ketch hesitantly places his hands, fingers spread, on the angel's ass cheeks. He grips the flesh in a tight squeeze, and startles at the soft noise he wrings from the angel. Ketch loosens his grip and kneads the halo's bum in circular motions. When he pulls the cheeks in opposite directions of each other, his breath hitches. The angel's innocent pucker lies revealed for Ketch's scrutiny. Ketch follows the trail of bulging skin that leads to the angel's perfectly rounded balls. His penis lies soft and vulnerable underneath. 

Ketch is drawn out of his reverie by soft and frightened noises spilling past the angel's lips. Perhaps he is already coming down from his high. Ketch let's go of the halo's plump bottom and goes to retrieve the hose. He rinses the soapy residue off the trembling body and struggles to shift the angel so that he sits slumped against the wall. 

Ketch picks up the soap and works up a lather over the angel's chest and stomach. He sets the soap aside and and works the bubbles over his arms, focusing on keeping the touch impersonal.  He glances down at the halo's privates and decides against directly washing them. Instead, he runs the water from the hose over his torso and let's the soapy water gather at the apex of his thighs. 

Ketch turns the water off and goes to retrieve a towel. Castiel struggles to blink the haze out of his eyes. He feels nothing and everything at once. It is very overwhelming, but he isn't able to move his body to combat the feeling. 

"Listen, angel. I regret my actions toward you just now. I exhibited poor self control, and it was at your expense." Ketch drapes a large towel over Cas. "To make up for my actions, I'm going to place you in a cell with a real bed for tonight."

If Cas could scoff, he would. Instead, he manages to raise and lower his eyebrows. Ketch briefly leaves the shower room and returns with a rolling metal table. He stomps on a lever that locks the table in place, then approaches Castiel, who is still slumped against the wall. Ignoring the towel, Ketch reaches down and lifts the angel by his armpits. After some shuffling and groans from Castiel, the angel is situated on the table with the towel draped lengthwise from his chest to his knees.

Ketch brings him to a new cell that could be considered five-star accommodations compared to his closet of a cell. There is a bedded cot, a toilet-sink hybrid, and plenty of space to pace if one chose to do so. 

Once Ketch had deposited him on the bed, Castiel expected him to leave. He shouldn't have been surprised that he did not. Instead, Ketch sat down and told him a story. 

"Listen well, angel. I was raised for the most of my childhood in a nunnery. We followed strict rules and learned our places quickly." Castiel let his head flop away from Ketch. He just wanted peace. Ketch rambled on, "I was taught that in order to receive respect, I must first give it. I wasn't inclined to give it to you initially, but I've realized my error."

While he was talking, Ketch sat himself on the edge of the bed and ran a gentle hand through Castiel's hair. Castiel assumed it was meant to be comforting, but he hasn't forgotten what follows Ketch's gentle touches. Castiel ducked his head away from Ketch as much as he could while making garbled noises of discomfort. 

"What is it, beast? Why must you make those noises while I'm speaking with you? I find your actions exceedingly ungrateful, if I should say so myself." Castiel was trying his best to tune Ketch out. It seemed that his gibberish and weak thrashing were striking a nerve in Ketch, so Cas doubled his efforts.

"Disrespectful...ungrateful! Settle down this instance, halo!" Cas made a point to do the opposite of what was requested. "Very well. If you choose to be ungrateful, I shall punish you as the nuns punished the ungrateful brats." 

With that, Ketch left the room in a fury. Castiel, on the other hand, was finding that the more he tried to move, the more he was able to gain control of his body. In a valiant display of strength and sheer stubbornness, Castiel flailed and fell right off the cot. He heard footsteps return to the room and the only greeting he received was a wicked stripe over his ass. 

"Aagh...!" His rough landing left him jarred, and Castiel found that he suddenly felt incredibly overwhelmed. Ketch brought the cane down again with a ferocious growl. 

"Aah!" 

"Shut up, halo! This is what being ungrateful yields." Ketch swatted Cas's ass multiple times in succession. "A good," swat! "Old fashioned," swat, swat! "Caning!" Swat, swat, swat, swat, swat!

Ketch relished in the pained whimpers spilling out of the angel. He watched, enraptured, as the cane left angry red lines all across the halo's trembling ass and thighs. He continued his onslaught with the cane until he noticed the trembling was morphing into spasms. In a matter of seconds, the angel had gone into a full blown seizure. 

The hard knock of bone against concrete echoed in the cell. The halo's head, elbows, hip bones, and knees bounced against the floor for about a minute. As suddenly as it came, the seizure ended. Castiel lying still and Ketch standing frozen, holding a dripping cane. 

Ketch snapped the cane against the air to splatter the blood off the weapon, then he retrieved the rolling table that was pushed aside and exited the cell, leaving the collared angel bloodied and delirious on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor bby. Please leave kudos and comments;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noncon in this chapter. Read the tags. But also, Mary!

Mary knew she should be doing something, or planning out a scheme to bust her boys out of that prison. Not cooping up in the British Men of Letters base. Really and truly, she should call Castiel. That would be a start. 

"-angel in the basement," Mary is walking past two agents when she can't help but to overhear their conversation. 

"Ketch has been spending all his time down there, from what I hear."

"Excuse me," Mary confronts the men. "But, did you mention something about an angel in the basement?" The two men share a look. "Yes, but that's classified informa-"

"I just want to know if you know who the angel is?" Mary sighs. She's getting really tired of the people in this base acting like she doesn't belong. 

The men wear matching confused expressions. "We don't know, but why would that matter in the first place?" Mary rolls her eyes, but thanks them for their help anyway. 

She doesn’t think Ketch would have taken Castiel, since he’s already met him, but she doesn’t know him as well as she thinks she should. She takes it upon herself to uncover the identity of the angel being held captive. Assuming that it's not her boys' friend, she will learn the name of the angel and mention it to Castiel.

Mary is aware that not all angels are benevolent, but they aren’t inherently evil either. She wont’t stand idly by as an innocent, human or not, is tortured.

****

"Good afternoon, halo."

It's been about twenty-four hours since Ketch abandoned the seizing angel in the cell. However, the angel looks perfectly well, if a bit under the weather sitting on the edge of the bed with the cot blanket wrapped tightly around his trembling frame. 

"You're looking well." The angel levels a wary look at the man. Ketch doesn't think he is going to answer until he finally speaks. 

"W-wh...underwh..." The angel growls in frustration. Ketch quirks an eyebrow. "Don't strain yourself." The angel glares at him. "The part of your brain that controls your speech is likely damaged. No worries, it will heal. In time." Ketch offers the angel a smile, to which he receives a deepened glare. "Just use one word. What were you trying to say?" The angel drops his gaze and adjusts the blanket. "Und..wear."

"Underwear?" The angel nods. Ketch puts his hands in his pockets and is silent for a moment. "Did you sleep any?" The angel tilts his head in confusion. "Or...how is your day?" The tilt remains for a moment until understanding flashes across the halo's face. The glare returns full force and the angel suddenly finds the right wall more interesting than his visitor. 

Castiel eventually says, "Why...y'care? Say y'self...am jus' for a-...amusement." 

"Hm. Well, I also said that your cooperation is crucial to your well-being. Lately, you've been blessedly docile, which is why you're enjoying this comfortable room rather than the closet." Ketch steps closer to the angel, who refuses to let his glare falter. "No, angel, you won't get your underwear back. You have proven that you don't deserve them." Ketch pauses to let his gaze sweep over the blanket-wrapped angel. 

"In fact, I won't allow you the amenities of a blanket and pillow either." When Ketch suddenly snags a corner of the blanket, Castiel struggles to keep his meager form of coverage. With a particularly rough yank, the angel goes sprawling to the floor, falling out of the blanket. Castiel scrambles to his hands and knees as Ketch balls up the fabric and tosses it into a corner. Castiel grabs the bed frame and uses it to try to pull himself back onto the bed. 

In a swift and jarring movement, Ketch grabs the back of his collar, sits himself on the edge of the cot, and drags him between his legs. Castiel gathers his wits quickly enough to begin struggling and pulling away immediately. He can't muster the strength. 

"Let go!" The angel rasps. Ketch grabs his shoulder and makes him face his kidnapper. 

"Hush now, angel. Look at me." When the angel refuses to cease his struggles, Ketch uses his grip on the collar to violently shake him. 

"Look at me!" Ketch takes on a deadly tone. The angel meets his eyes with blue ones full of shame, confusion, and unshed tears. 

"Just magnificent..." Ketch whispers. Cas squeezes his eyes closed. 

"No, open them. Your eyes...they are truly ethereal." Ketch brushes the halo's cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. A sob of frustration catches in Castiel's throat. His eyebrows worry together in both fear and confusion. 

"No...th-" Ketch strikes the angel across the face.

"Yes, angel! Yes, they are!" Where Ketch was unnervingly gentle a moment ago, he is now full of unnecessary rage and fury. He pulls the angel up again and stares at the delirious halo. Ketch focuses on his lips and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of the angel's neck.

Castiel doesn't initially register the bruising kiss, but when he does, he jerks back with a confused noise. Ketch smashes their lips together again, oblivious of the angel's struggling. Ketch shifts his hand holding the collar to cas’s chin and tries to wrench his jaw open to deepen the kiss. Castiel whimpers into Ketch's mouth and the man swallows the angel's objections and pleas. 

Ketch sweeps his tongue through the angel's mouth and moans at the divine taste that is Angel. Castiel bites the invasive muscle. 

"Agh!" Ketch jerks the angel back by the grip on his hair and punches him in the mouth. 

"You dare to harm me?! I washed you of your filth! I gave you a bed! This is how you repay my generosity?" Anger and fear battle in heaving angel's expression. 

"...you will make it up to me. Right now."

Ketch stands, hand still holding the halo's hair, and unfastens his trousers.

Castiel tries to throw himself away from the man. He thrashes in Ketch's grip, hands pushing weakly at the man's thighs. Ketch smashes Castiel's face into his crotch, making it harder for the angel to struggle. Grunting and growling animalistically, Ketch wrestles his hard cock out of his trousers and pushes it against the halo's closed lips. The angel seals his lips and breathes hard through his nose. Ketch removes his hand from his hair and pinches Castiel's nose closed. The angel's face goes red, and eventually, he relents. Castiel desperately sucks in air through his mouth and Ketch uses the opportunity to shove himself in the wet heat. 

Sounds of moaning and choking mingle in the air of the cell. The angel's mouth is seraphic. It is truly otherworldly, having his cock in the mouth of an angel. 

It goes on for what seems like forever to Castiel. Ketch brutally thrusting in his mouth, ordering him to lick and suck in a humiliating manner, forcing him to deep throat the appendage.

Finally, Ketch’s rhythm begins to falter. He pulls out of the angel’s mouth and the ejaculate lands in sticky ropes on his face. 

The angel is barely conscious at this point, and Ketch experiences a brief moment of conflict. Heart warring over what's right and what's wrong, he drags the defiled angel to his original closet-sized cell and leaves him in the dark. 

The smell of salty musk fills the small space, and Castiel is desperate to escape it. He considers his options, and finds that they are grim. 

The only way he could escape on his own is if Ketch makes a mistake or lets his guard down. The problem is, he keeps having seizures, and each one leaves him weak and drained. His other option requires outside assistance, which he has none of. His only other option is that he comes to terms with existing in Ketch's captivity, and hopes that one day, Ketch will let him go. This seems highly unlikely. 

Castiel's breathing picks up. There's no way he can stand to be in this Hell for any longer. He is the most vulnerable he has ever been before in his existence, and Ketch has already proved that he has no qualms with taking advantage of him.

What just happened wasn't just an attack on Castiel's person, but an attack on his mentality as well. He doesn't want to imagine how Ketch could take it to the next level. 

Cas raises his hands and starts scratching at the seam in the door. His hands are trembling violently, and never before has such a simple task been so difficult. He scratches at the door until his fingernails have been broken bloody. Then he cries. 

He wails like a lost child. 

He cannot stop thinking about his three options. However, perhaps there's a fourth. Perhaps, Cas could push and needle Ketch to the brink of patience, and the man would finish him off for good. No. He...no. Sam and Dean, they will still need him. No, they will want him. It will break them if they were to find out he died in this way. Or maybe they will just think him a coward. Either way, Castiel chooses to persevere.

****

Castiel isn't answering his phone.

Mary makes her way down to the labs with a sense of urgency. She knows that any DNA from the monsters is always taken to the labs when they are first brought here, so she's hoping the techs will know more about the angel that's here. 

She walks in and feels a little out of place in her comfortable hunter garb surrounded by white coats. She recovers quickly and grabs the attention of the first person she sees. 

"Excuse me. Do you have the DNA for the angel that's being kept here?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just...curious to see what kind of DNA is collected from an angel." Real smooth Mary. Not her worst excuse, though. The lab tech motions for her to follow. 

"Angels occupy human bodies, so the DNA is basic things like hair, blood, saliva, et cetera." The tech opens a drawer, pulls out a folder, and dumps a couple of plastic baggies on a table. "It's not every sample taken from the angel. Some of it is still being examined."

"You wouldn't happen to know the name of the angel, would you?" Mary picks up a plastic baggie containing what looks like a lock of hair and looks closely at it. 

"Unfortunately, we do not. Mr. Ketch is keeping that little tidbit a secret from us. Lord only knows why." Mary examines the hair and notes that it's the same color as Castiel's. It could just be a coincidence. Plenty of people have dark hair, but it plants a seed of worry in her. 

"Thank you. That's all. Good luck with...the science." She leaves without waiting for a response. Mary has to find this angel. Now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos:) let me know how you'd like to see this end;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. This is the last chapter, guys. I hope it was worth the wait:) Thanks to SaraPBateman for helping me get through this chapter! Warnings for seizures, panic attacks, and death.

Mary had only been down to the basement level a couple of times. She knows that each cell requires a pass code to enter. Luckily, the pass codes are only unique the floor they are assigned to, and she was able to watch someone enter it to lock up a vamp not too long ago. 

Her challenge was going to be finding the right door. She doesn't want to go opening a door only to be immediately attacked. Her best bet is to find some kind of registry. Maybe she can even find an agent or a guard for this floor, and ask them for help. 

For once in her life, Mary's problem is solved with relative ease. She finds a clipboard attached to the wall near the entrance that has the the cells numbered and labeled by species. The only problem is, there is no ‘Angel’ listed in the registry. That puts a little bit of a damper on her good-luck streak. Mary wanders the halls with the clipboard, thinking of a solution to her problem and also looking for any cells that might have a window or anything to see through. In no time, she has made a round of the whole basement. She sighs and looks at the clipboard again.

“Wait,” She notices that there are three empty cells. The researchers upstairs had mentioned that the angel specimen was brought in only a short while ago. It’s possible that he or she just hasn’t been added to this registry yet. Mary starts for the closest empty cell. She enters the basement passcode that she isn’t supposed to know and opens the heavy door, bracing herself for what she might see.

It was empty. She exhaled shakily and let the door swing shut. Her stomach twisted at the possibilities of what she may find, if she somehow gets to the angel. What if they are hurt? The BMOL has been known for their lack of mercy, or humanity when it came to anything...not human? The reality is, they are also cruel to humans, so any hope of them treating an angel with any kind of diplomacy was very unlikely regardless of how humanoid the angel is. However, Castiel isn’t answering his phone, so there’s no way she can be sure that the random angel brought here is in fact at all humanoid, or at least on good terms with the boys. 

She comes to the second cell and enters the passcode.

The clipboard clatters to the floor. She couldn't hear anything from behind the reinforced steel door, but there's no mistaking the involuntary grunts leaving the seizing angel's lips as they seem to bounce and echo down the empty hallway.  And...a seizure is exactly what this angel is having. It's made clear and visceral as Mary drops to her knees and slides her hands underneath the mop of dark hair to make a barrier between his head and the hard floor. "Sh sh sh," As the seizure draws to a close, Mary rolls the angel towards her into recovery position, and her worst fears are confirmed. "Castiel! Cas, honey. It's okay, now-" She is stroking his matted hair and startles at the feeling of something cold and slimy on his face. She leans in and uses a gentle finger to swipe up the substance. "Holy shit." There's no mistaking what that is. She can see now it's all over his lax features. A feeling of unbridled rage and disgust sweeps through Mary; as the realization of what must of happened to Cas sunk in, a sensation of fierce protectiveness ran through her, and she decides she needs to get Castiel out of this place as soon as she can. She struggles to fit both herself and Castiel inside the unbelievably small cell, but she manages it, and is able to gently scoot Cas out of its confines. In the light of the hallway, she nearly gags at Castiel's condition. Castiel is stripped bare and collared like an animal with a thick and unforgiving strip of leather. There is a padlock dangling heavily from it, and that appears to be the only locking mechanism to it. His face is splotched and mottled with dark bruises. His eyes are puffy from crying. His body is trembling, but there doesn't appear to be many bruises marring it. Then she sees them. With Castiel laying on his side, Mary can see the angry whip marks slashing all over his bottom and upper thighs. Some of the stripes are still sluggishly oozing blood. The backs of Mary's eyes burn at the implications. Mr. Ketch wasn't just down here seeking his lust for physical violence with Cas, but he was using sexual violence as well. She had no idea the man was so diabolical. If she sees him again, she's putting a bullet through his head. She closes the cell door and kneels protectively over Castiel's shivering frame. She grabs his hands and hesitantly kisses his knuckles. If it was to comfort him or her, she wasn't sure. She moved one of her hands to the back of his head and rubbed soothing circles. "Everything's all right now, Cas. You're safe now. I'm going to get you out of here." She gave his hand another peck for good measure. She lets go and fumbles for her lock pick set. She could not recognize the wards on the collar, but she could tell they were bad news. After a short amount of time, the lock and collar fall to the floor. Mary straightens up and takes in a shaky breath. All right, she needs to find a wheelchair if she wants to get him out of here in good time. Maybe the clipboard shows the supply closets. Before she lunges for the dropped clipboard, she takes a moment to remove her jacket and lay it across Castiel's hip. It's the most modesty she can offer him at the moment. "I see you've found your sons' pet." Mary is up and facing Ketch, gun drawn, in record time. She takes her aim. "Mary, I wo-" BANG Ketch falls boneless to the floor, and the hole through his head is practically smoking. Mary slides her gun back in her pants and grabs the clipboard. She's finding Castiel a wheelchair and a damn blanket. ** Ten minutes later she's wheeling Castiel out to her car. She was trying to keep her mind on track. Think about routes out of town, what her next step should be, but all she could dwell on was the fact that she had to wipe Ketch's cum off of Castiel's face. Castiel. The angel. Beaten and bruised with cum on his face. Breathing through a wave of nausea, Mary unlocks the car and reaches through the back door to push her duffel against the far door. It should make a good pillow. She hates to have to take the blanket for even a second with the way Castiel is gripping it like a vice, but she won't be able to move him into the car with the blanket tangled between them. After five minutes of difficult maneuvering, Mary has Cas curled in a fetal position in the backseat of her car. She drapes the blanket over him, mindful of the wicked whip marks, then loads up the wheelchair in the trunk and starts putting miles between them and the British Men of Letters base. ** A couple hours later, Mary is pumping gas at a quiet Phillips station. The rear window is rolled halfway down and Mary has a clear view of Castiel sleeping in the backseat. Mary couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't healing. She thought that as soon as she removed the collar...or at least got him out of the building, Cas would have angel'd himself well again and be good to go. Of course, angel or not, she wouldn't expect anyone to instantly bounce back from what Ketch put Castiel through. Mary reaches her hand through the open window to wipe the sweaty locks off Cas's forehead. He lets out a small sound and blinks his glassy eyes open. Mary keeps her touch light and her voice low when she speaks. "Hey, Castiel. We're just stopped for gas right now. Can I get you anything?" Mary continues her soothing caresses through Cas's hair. Cas cranes his head against his makeshift pillow to look up at Mary. "Don't leave." Mary furrows her brows. "I won't leave you, Cas. Everything's going to be alright." Cas holds her gaze for a moment longer, looking for a promise or confirmation. The gas nozzle clicks loudly, making Cas flinch violently. He tucks his head back down against the seat and curls into the blanket. Mary moves away from the window reluctantly. She finishes pumping the gas and heads back out on the road. ** Room 15 is actually a tad bigger than the rest of the rooms at the bunker. It makes it easier for Mary to maneuver the wheelchair around the bed and settle Castiel face down into his pallet of blankets and pillows. Thankfully, Cas has been lucid the past half hour. Trying to get him down into the bunker completely unconscious would have been damn near impossible. As soon as Mary gets Cas on his bed, however, she's reminded of his state of undress. With Cas blinking sluggishly, looking ready to drop right off into sleep again, Mary covers him with a blanket and sets about looking for some clothes. She goes to Dean's room and pulls out a pair of clean boxers and one of his many black t-shirts. On her way back over to Cas's room, it occurs to Mary that Cas could be injured in...ways that aren't immediately evident. She sets the clothes on the foot of the bed then walks around and places a gentle hand on Cas's shoulder. "Castiel. Can you tell me if you're hurting anywhere? Also, maybe, why you aren't healing?" Mary crouches near the head of the bed so Cas doesn't have to speak up if he isn't able to. She sits near him for a few moments, waiting for an answer. Castiel blinks his eyes and mutters something unintelligible. "What was that?" Cas turns his head to the side a bit. "Phone." A phone? Mary looks at him like he has two heads for a moment before she mentally shrugs and places her new phone in Castiel's hand. He concentrates on typing something for a few minutes before showing it to Mary. 'Brain not functioning properly. Talking is not easy. Whip marks hurt.' Mary reads the small print on the phone and tries to process what it actually means. "Why isn't your brain...functioning properly? Wait, does this have to do with that seizure?" Cas resumes typing on the phone. 'Ketch. Yes.' Mary purses her lips and tries to tamp down the rage flowing through her. She wishes Ketch had went in a more painful way. "Okay. I can do something about the whip marks. Let me just go grab the first aid kit and you hang tight."

**

Just short of a week has passed, and to Mary’s frustration, Cas has not shown progress. His body, which is trying its best to heal itself, has seen high fevers and infection. His muscles and whip marks continued to ache and throb. 

As another sleepless night ended, Cas slowly and sluggishly detected Mary waking up on the other side of the bunker. After only a little while, Cas was pleasantly greeted by a freshly showered and barefoot Mary. “Good morning, buddy. How ya feeling today?” 

An incident not too long ago in which Mary’s boots had echoed loudly in the bunker hallway caused Cas to have a panic attack. The clacking of her boot’s heels was all too familiar to Ketch’s dress shoes clomping on the tiles, signalling his return...he never really escaped. 

The panic attack turned into a seizure, which lead to Cas suffering two more injuries. Both to the head. Now Mary does not wear any shoes around the bunker. “Alright, let’s change that dressing.” Cas was able to sit up and swing his legs off the edge of the bed, but Mary still had to help him to stand up. 

As Cas hunched over to lower his boxer shorts, Mary caught sight of Cas’s spine protruding sickly through his skin. “Wait just a second, Cas.” Cas straightened back up and gave her a mild look of confusion. Mary lifted the hem of the back of his shirt and saw that his ribs were much more visible than they were when she first rescued him. 

“Oh, Cas.” Mary whispered. He had become completely emaciated under her care. “Yes?” She looked at him as he looked at her over his shoulder. “I think you need to eat.” Cas took up the phone he now kept with him to communicate, ‘I do not need to eat. I do not feel hunger.’ Mary read the text, then turned to him and replied, “Well, you’ve lost a lot of weight, and you haven’t healed at all.” Castiel looked at her, exhaustion evident in his eyes. 

‘I do not require food.’ he typed, ‘As I do not require sleep.’ She put her hand on his shoulder and thought for a second. “Maybe that’s another thing you should try to. I think it may be the key to getting you better.” Cas let out a petulant huff and opened his mouth to speak, only to be overcome with dizziness. Mary decided she was going to feed him as soon as possible. 

After taking a momentary sitting break on the bed, she got him standing again and quickly went about changing his dressings. Once Cas was back in bed, Mary left and returned with an assortment of light breakfast food items. Sitting up with the breakfast tray across his lap, Castiel started by trying a large slice of orange. Placing the fruit in his mouth, he felt his throat seize up as an image of Ketch shoving his manhood in his mouth flooded his mind. 

His stomach seized and a strong urge to scrub every inch of his body with steel wool took over him. He felt like he was being strangled, and he couldn’t breathe. “Cas, honey, you’re having a panic attack. Deep breaths like we practiced.” Cas could faintly hear Mary in the background of the loud ringing in his ears. It was like the all the angels were collectively screaming on angel radio.

Despite the sudden onset of this particular panic attack, Mary was prepared and knew how to handle all his panic attacks and their accompanying seizures. She rapidly removed the tray from the bed and helped cas lay on his back. she removed any pillows and sheets he might tangle himself in and sat vigilant with his hand clasped tightly in both of hers. 

When he eventually rode out the seizure, he came out of it like he customarily did; sad, scared, and confused. Mary held Cas close as he cried, fingers combing through his unruly hair. She may not have been able to hold Sam and Dean like this, but she’s able to hold Cas. If a mother’s love is what he needs, she’s happy to give it.

**

“I’ve got more soup!” Two days have passed since the incident with the oranges. Mary spent the rest of the day cooking different foods and helping Cas try them. So far, large, solid food was a strict no-go. 

Eventually, they found that soups work, and that yogurt is just as good. After eating, Mary encouraged Cas to fall asleep. He didn’t wake up again late that evening. He woke up very hungry, and as a result enjoyed three bowls of soup. 

After that, it was smooth sailing. Cas was quickly getting better. The pain was lessening, and he was feeling a lot less tired. Perhaps the best part was that he was able to speak better and better everyday. 

“Alright, Buzz. This might be the last time I have to treat those wounds.” Mary had started calling Cas “Buzz” ever since she found out what a bee fanatic he was. When she asked him what kinds of books she could get for him to read, and he simply said, “Bees.” He proceeded to read every single book about bees that Mary could find in the bunker’s library, which ranged from uses of honey in witchcraft to guidebooks on apiaries. 

“Practically all healed up, Cas! To think that all you needed was some tomato-rice soup.” Cas offered her a smile. “Thank you, Mary. For everything.” She smiled back.

**

Another week has passed and Cas walks comfortably around the bunker. However, when asked if he would feel comfortable leaving, he showed reservations. Either way, he was in need of clothes, and Mary was happy to pick him up some of his own. Cas waved her out with an assurance that Goodwill will meet her budget just fine.

Walking into the store, she thought about the businessman getup she had seen Castiel wear before. She assumes that his previous attire, so different compared to Sam and Dean’s usual flannel and jeans, would be too uncomfortable now for Cas. Her heart clenched at the reminder that her sons were still missing, being held somewhere by the US government. 

She sighed and went straight to the men’s racks. “Comfortable clothes.” she murmured to herself as she pushed through a rack of old flannels. Hundreds of unique smells wafting from the used clothes assaulted her nose. She’ll make sure that whatever she buys gets a good wash first. 

She grabbed a yellow and black flannel that was reminiscent of Castiel’s beloved bees and threw it in the basket. She moved from the flannels to a section with a wide assortment of shirts, all completely unique from one another. There were graphic tees, psychedelic tye-dyes, v-necks...leather? 

“What the hell?” Mary muttered as she passed a latex...suit? Does someone go fly fishing in this town? She noticed in between the weird shirts a couple of faded concert shirts. One said ‘Country Joe and the Fish’. She smiled and quickly snagged it off the rack. If Cas doesn’t like it, then she could definitely keep it. She smiled as she pulled a couple other concert tees off of the rack, remembering John’s style in their youth. 

She started walking towards the pants, but quickly stopped when a sweater rack caught her eye. She pushed through all the old christmas sweaters and tacky letterman jackets until she saw a nice cable knit sweater. She could definitely see Cas in this. She picked up a few more, all with varying colors and patterns. As she walked around scanning for more, she came across the jackets. She found a bright, turquoise, windbreaker. “I remember buying one of these last year...oh right” Cas needs a jacket and this one seems to be calling her name. She pulls it off the rack to join the others. When she notices a beautiful brown leather jacket, she has to breathe through the feeling of her heart longing for John. She misses him so much. She pulls it off the rack for herself. 

She passed the shoe section and picked up the first pair shoes that were a men’s size 11: some white New Balance sneakers. Oh well, she doesn’t think Cas is going to be too picky about his shoes anyway. 

Lastly, she made her way to the men’s pants section. As she sifted through them, one pair really caught her eye. “Hello, Bruce Springsteen…” She threw the Springsteen jeans in with the jackets and sweaters. A few pairs of corduroy pants stuck out to her. They reminded her of late nights and good music. She threw them into the cart and started for the registers to pay.

**

“I’m back!” Mary kicked off her boots and bounced down the stairs, Goodwill bags in hand. She was surprised to see that Cas wasn’t in the library. “Must be taking a nap.” Mary mumbled. She padded down the hallway to Cas’s room. The door was open and Cas was sitting comfortably on the bed, book in hand. 

“Hello, Mary. Let me help you.” Cas got up from the bed and grabbed the bags from Mary, eager to see what she got him. Mary smiled to herself, she understood why her sons loved Cas so much. “They had such a huge selection. You’ll have to see for yourself at some point.” Mary plopped down on the edge of the bed, ready to gauge Cas’s reaction to the clothes. 

Cas started opening the bag and looking through them. “I look forward to visiting the Goodwill. But for now I’m sure what you picked will suffice.” He pulled out the shirts first. He smiled fondly when he recognized that bands on the shirts. His grin widened when he pulled out the Country Joe and the Fish shirt, “Electric Music for the Mind and Body.” he read aloud. “I’m wasn’t aware electricity combined with music had an impact on the mind and body.” Cas mused. Mary snorted.

“Well it does and I think you’d like it.” Cas nodded at her as he folded the t-shirts with painstaking care. Next, he pulled out the windbreaker and the pants. He gasped at the windbreaker. “I think I like this jacket more than my old one. Thank you, Mary.”

Mary nodded, “Uh-huh. Keep going, there’s more.” Cas pulled out the yellow and black flannel, and instantly pulled it close to himself, beaming at Mary. “This, this is beautiful, Mary. I love it!” he looked at the other beautifully designed sweaters in the bag. “This is perfect!” He smiled widely and happily. 

“I’m glad you like it, Cas.” He walked over to Mary and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you.” he whispered to her. She knew it wasn’t just for the clothing. 

**

“Six weeks, two days, and ten hours, Mary.”

Castiel and Mary are sitting across from each other in the library, each having abandoned their reading materials in favor of focusing on their discussion.

Mary sighs. “Cas, you should focus on healing yourself before planning any missions.”

“I am healed. I’m no longer in any pain, I haven’t experienced any seizures, let alone a panic attack in almost three weeks now. We don’t have time to waste. Who knows what’s been happening to Sam and Dean in the past month and a half?” Mary dropped eye contact and rubbed her hands over her face.

“Then why aren’t you fully angel again? If you’re all the way healed, wouldn’t you have angel’d up by now?” It was Cas’s turn to lose eye contact. “Cas, you’ve come a long way, and I want to believe that you’re good to go, but you still eating and sleeping has me concerned.”

Cas sighed and looked back up at Mary. “I think...I think the reason I haven’t “angel’d up” as you say is because of- well, I think it may because of lingering brain damage.” Mary stared at him for a long moment.

“Lingering...do you think- I mean, are you worried it might be permanent?” Cas immediately straightened up. “No. It will heal with time, and once it is healed, I will be fully angel again.” Mary twisted the ring on her finger in apprehension.

“But you still want to go after Sam and Dean, angel wings or not?”

“Yes.” Cas replied earnestly. Mary pulled out her phone and accessed the internet app.

“Well, I got some old friends in high places who owe me some long overdue favors.” She winked at Cas. He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Leave comments and kudos please. Check out my tumblr too: oh-cassie.tumblr.com


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